Before the Storm
by plaidshirtjimkirk
Summary: Hijikata had no particular interest in meeting the new Tennen Rishin Ryu heir...until he saw the size of his shoes.
1. Chapter 1

Thank you for checking this out! This story came about because a lovely anon sent me a request on tumblr to write a get together story. And here we are.

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**.*Before the Storm*.  
Chapter 1**

_Ishida Village - 1851_

It all began with hearsay and a pair of ridiculously big shoes left in front of the Sato Dojo.

Medicine chest strapped to his back, Hijikata stood before the porch scrutinizing the larger than life footwear with curiosity displayed openly in amethyst eyes just a bit wider than usual. His brother-in-law Hikogoro wore sandals of typical proportion, never particularly larger or smaller than any other's, and yet here they sat dwarfed.

A loud shout of "_EEEEEY!_" and subsequent sharp clash of shinai echoed from within the dojo, drowning out the melody of mid-summer cicada song—had Hijikata's chin snapping up toward the entrance in desire of catching a glimpse of the action. There was none to be seen from where he stood, however; instead, he listened with heed to the pounding steps taken carefully against the wooden floor, the undoubtable indication of opponents locked in a dance of wits to match their brawn.

Word had it that the new Tennen Rishin Ryu master possessed intelligence to match his fortitude, and came with some kind of interesting past to boot. Intellect was subjective, strength was comparative. Hell, anyone could claim to have a compelling backstory.

But not many in a higher social class would admit to hailing from much humbler roots.

And it went without saying that no one could fake the size of these shoes.

"_Oi, Toshizo_," Hikogoro had said the previous evening, jabbing his sakazuke cup over the dinner table to catch his attention. Taking the bait, Hijikata's gaze lifted while he made quick work of his remaining rice and stayed attentive while he chewed. "You oughta come by to train tomorrow afternoon. The young master is visiting…you know, the one who just became next heir to Shusuke-sensei's legacy."

"Cht." Hijikata's brow twitched and his bowl hit the table a little harder than he might have intended. He reached for the soup next and before sipping, replied with an irascible, "The hell do I care?"

To the right was his sister, and far be Nobu to ever pass up an opportunity to lovingly scold him for something. "Toshizo, I keep telling you…" When he peered up at her, she pursed her lips and cocked her head, her tone matter-of-fact. "Your face is going to freeze that way if you keep that up."

Hijikata scoffed. "Good." —and proceeded to down the rest of the broth while Nobu's eyes rolled to the ceiling.

"Maa, c'mon!" Hikogoro sang, his voice light and airy. "At least just meet him, even if it's quick! I think you two would have some things to talk about."

Chopsticks were laid across an empty dish. "Yeah, like how he's some bigshot samurai and I'm just a damn medicine-peddling, textile-sewing farmer." Bringing a handkerchief up to dab at his mouth, Hijikata's expression darkened into an unamused scowl. "Thanks, but no thanks."

A dramatic sigh left Nobu's lips. "You know, Toshizo, it's no wonder you're drawn to writing. You certainly enjoy words—and not to mention putting them in other people's mouths."

Long black lashes fell in a prolonged blink and Hijikata slowly turned his face to her before reopening them. They fluttered as he half-glared, expecting a continuation of her criticisms. Nobu _had_ a point, as she often did…not that he would ever admit to it, but that was a different thing entirely.

"Just come by. Ne?" Hikogoro prodded again.

Folding the small cloth twice over, Hijikata tucked it back into the sleeve of his hakamashita and brushed himself off. "I'll think about it if it'll make you happy." At that, he expressed gratitude for dinner and promptly stood to take his leave, with no certain intent to waste a single further moment on the invitation.

However, just as he approached the open doorway, Hikogoro spoke up again. "The young master may be a samurai now but he was born into the farming class."

Hijikata's hand fell on the wooden frame and though he hadn't looked back, he did pause.

"…Doesn't that interest you? Even a little?"

His fingertips barely flexed. All he offered as acknowledgement was a slight turn of the head before he stepped out onto the porch and vanished into the night.

The hours separating that mealtime exchange from the present had been rife with a heavy dose of scrutiny and flip-flopping. Much to Hijikata's irritation, he had to admit that a farmer-turned-samurai _was_ intriguing and it _had_ seemed likely he could get on well with such a person. _Maybe_. Still, he'd risen and left the house before anyone else in the family awoke to try their hand at influence once more.

As it turned out, no further convincing was needed, for there he stood per Hikogoro's original request—before the threshold of the dojo while the afternoon sun burned bright and had beads of moisture lining his brow.

One look. One look was all Hijikata would give this guy, because he was damn convinced that was all it would take to drown the intrusive questions which refused to stop needling him. Shusuke-sensei was an old man with a taste for strange company, after all. Surely, he'd adopted some middle-aged misfit who was now walking around with two swords at his hip and acting like he was some kind of eminent individual by birthright. That kind of person might be even worse than so-called _real_ samurai who lazed about and drank their fill of sake and milked the privileges of their status.

"Tch."

Hijikata slipped the medicine chest off his back and placed it on the porch. The strap clasps fell undone under his chin and the hat followed, pulled free from his person and set atop his wares. He about-faced to kick his sandals off, refusing to even compare his own with the size of their visitor's, and then vaulted up toward the entrance just in time to see…

"_EEEEEY! HA!_"

Hikogoro faced the door decked out in training gear, his shinai locked and quivering against the young master's—whom, Hijikata could only see from the back at this vantage point. Upon his sudden appearance, Hikogoro let up with an excited, "Ah!" He backed away several steps. "So you came after all! Katsuta-san, I want you to meet my brother."

"Oh, the one you mentioned!"

Hijikata crossed his arms and leaned against the frame, one hip jutting out as he watched both men quickly freeing themselves from their chest guards and facemasks. Leave it to niisan to run his mouth, when it wasn't even officially decided that he'd show up today or not. He respected the hell out of Hikogoro, but sometimes he could really be—

With his facemask pulled free, the young master turned.

…Gold. _Golden_. Like sunlight.

Hijikata's chest stilled. His lashes parted a little wider, his mouth went dry.

Young. So much younger than expected. _Handsome_. Ridiculously handsome. …Approaching. Oh, he was _approaching_. Hijikata blinked and slowly, almost clumsily, righted himself.

"Shimazaki Katsuta," the young master said in introduction and quickly wiped at his face with his hakamashita. Was that _blush_ staining across his cheeks, or just a consequence of the heat? "Ah, I'm sorry to meet you when I'm all disheveled and sweaty, but…" He bowed, those adjectives not lost on Hijikata for a second. "It's a pleasure."

A large grin pulled out into Hikogoro's cheeks as he clapped his friend hard on the shoulder. "This is our future Kondo-sensei."

The young master huffed beneath his breath in amusement, his features managing to somehow soften even further as he rubbed at where he'd been playfully assaulted. "Hey now, I'm flattered but I don't share my father's last name yet."

Hikogoro's laugh resounded in the space and he jabbed an arm next, to which Kondo raised his shoulders. "Soon enough, Katsuta-san! Soon enough." His attention returned to Hijikata while tilting his head and beginning to blot a line from temple to chin with a cloth. "Well? Toshizo? What do you think?"

…What did he think? What the hell more _was_ there to think other than things he couldn't say?! He was gorgeous, plain and simple, and a shinai looked too damn good in his strong hand.

Kondo's whiskey eyes were back on Hijikata, his gaze filled with curiosity and perhaps a touch of embarrassment at Hikogoro's flattery as he awaited his assessment. And when Hijikata suddenly realized that Kondo _was_, indeed, waiting for an opinion, he glanced quickly to his brother-in-law and unfolded his arms. Hikogoro lifted his brows with a nod, urging him on.

_Say something, say something. Say anything._

"You have some big ass feet."

…_Shit_. Why did he say _that_?!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"_You have some big ass feet._"

There weren't many times in his life when Hijikata experienced the desire to fade right out of existence, but now...now was good a time as ever.

A sudden forced cough exploded from Hikogoro's mouth while he pounded his chest and Kondo…he simply blinked. His head barely cocked, as though he were processing what had been carelessly blurted out—as if he were wondering if he'd heard correctly.

It was unfortunate that he had.

The prevailing silence was deafening, horrifying. Someone present needed to attempt damage control and though he had no concrete plan for mending the presumed hurt feelings of an important fixture in Hikogoro's life, Hijikata's lips parted to speak. Apparently, he'd still not learned the lesson that saying nothing at all was often better than speaking for the sake of it. Fate was on his side, however; just as he was about to come out with some stream of nonsense rambling, Kondo's shoulders shook once with a huff. And then again. And before long, he closed his eyes and barked a laugh.

After fingers idly brushed through his hair, Hijikata flipped his ponytail and winced, trying again. "Look, uh. I didn't mean—"

Kondo held a hand up to stop Hijikata in his tracks and waved it, chuckling more and then bringing it back to rub at the tip of his nose. "It's fine. You're right. I'm sorry for laughing, it's—"

Hijikata snorted. "Don't apologize. I'm the one apparently being offensive."

Shaking his head, Kondo closed his eyes for a beat. "No, no, not at all. I'm laughing because…okay. I have this friend I visit back home, yeah? And one time he hired a new maid who I hadn't met before. So, we're sitting there drinking together and suddenly this blood-curdling scream rings out. Turns out it was her when she saw the size of my shoes in the entryway."

"What?! All right, look!" Feeling more at peace with the situation, Hijikata's posture eased and he shrugged at Hikogoro. "It's not just me. But I didn't scream. Remember that." A huff. "You gotta admit that they _do_ kinda stick out, though, your shoes…"

"Oh, I know it!" Kondo laughed. "But for what it's worth, I ended up becoming friends with that lady so maybe this is a good sign?"

"Heh…" A smirk pulled at Hijikata's lips. "Here's hoping. Name's Hijikata Toshizo."

Kondo's chin fell in a nod. "Again, it's a pleasure." He grabbed Hikogoro by the shoulders—who had gone from looking beyond mortified to rather impressed over the span of the conversation. "Hikogoro-san always has great things to say about you."

"Psht. Don't believe a word this guy says."

"Oi, Toshizo!" Hikogoro's back straightened and he stood tall. "Katsuta-san might accept your disrespect but I sure as hell won't!" The facade crumbled as soon as he'd spoken and his spine relaxed. "Eh, who am I kidding?"

"No one, Sir," Kondo offered with a grin. "But maybe if you were up against some thieves instead…"

"Well, we can't win 'em all, can we?" Hikogoro hummed and then switched direction. "Katsuta-san, you must be starving. I'll go grab some lunch for you."

"Oh, I don't want to trouble you or your wife, Hikogo—" And as if his stomach had intended from the start to rebel against such a predictably humble reply, it growled loudly at that very moment. Kondo's cheeks flushed.

Hikogoro smiled. "You're no trouble at all. Hang out here for a bit, yeah?" His expression went a touch serious. "You too, Toshizo. Keep the young master company. Try not to offend him."

Hijikata sucked his teeth and tossed his face to the side.

Looking between both, Kondo interjected, "Actually, I'll take a minute or two and show myself to the well if you don't mind. I should really wash up."

"Sure thing. Toshizo, why don't you walk him out back?"

The protest came immediately. "Oh, it's all right, really. Today's super hot." Kondo chin fell once. "Hijikata-san, why not stay on the porch until I come back? The shade is better than cooking in the sun."

"I really wouldn't mind," Hijikata offered with a shrug. Indeed, he absolutely would _not_ mind seeing Kondo's hakamashita falling off his shoulders and getting a quality glimpse of the obvious muscular form his attire was hiding. Alas… "But it's up to you."

After another nod to solidify the plan, Kondo and Hikogoro took their leave, each heading in his designated separate direction. The glass porch chime jingled with the passing of a light breeze and Hijikata drifted out of the dojo, taking in the sight of a nearby tree with its swaying leaves before flopping down next to his medicine chest. He stared at the dark planks comprising the ceiling, allowed his legs to kick and swing off the edge of the floorboards. From there, his mind began to wander.

The universe worked in surprising ways. Never in a million years had Hijikata expected to not only like what he saw, but…actually really, _really_ like it. Experience from peddling and apprenticeship had honed his skills when it came to dealing with people; he'd been told countless times how effortlessly he cavorted about others, how easy he made communication look. Some old man with a crooked spine once shook a cane at him and said he could probably sell salt to the sea if he tried.

As reality would have it, though, work was nothing more than a performance. It was Hijikata simply doing what he needed to do to survive and get by. If he wasn't personable or convincing, he'd never sell anything at all. And if he wasn't selling anything, he wasn't earning income. And if he wasn't earning income…

He licked his lips and folded his hands over his abdomen, stopping his thoughts from the derailment they often suffered from. The fact of the matter was that talking with Kondo required no great effort on his part. The conversation had flowed so easily that anyone looking at them from the outside would assume they'd been friends since childhood…which was bizarre, since they'd only just met.

Hijikata drummed on the knuckles of his lower hand. So, Hikogoro had been right. He hated to admit it, especially when he'd been so obstinate about meeting the young master in the first place. But really, all he had was a first impression. Whether Kondo was truly someone who Hijikata could mesh well with or not in the long run would be up for debate for some time.

Well…

His fingers stopped their movement.

There was one simple way to find out whether it was even worth the effort. He could simply confess about his desire to become a samurai, and gauge from the response. But then again…Hijikata hadn't felt much like being mocked for the millionth time in his life. And if he were very honest, he was afraid that this handsome guy who seemed to have it all together would end up only letting him down.

"…Tch."

He closed his eyes, laced his digits, and let the breeze ruffle through his bangs.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

There were good samurai and bad samurai in the world.

The first time Hijikata learned this fact coincided with the first time he ever picked a fight. It was the summer after he'd turned eight years old, when he and a couple of boys who lived down the street converged to kick a ball about and then jump in the lake when it got too hot in the sun. Naturally, kids were kids and ever too content to wear their hearts on their sleeves. Though, upon Hijikata's crash-landing into adulthood, he quickly realized that being too honest wasn't merely a product of juvenility, but apparently just an irritating fact of human nature.

On that particular sweltering day in his youth, he'd found two perfectly sized sticks beneath the canopy of an old oak tree and promptly worked them through the side of his hakama—his very own makeshift blades.

That's when the heckling began again.

"You ain't no samurai! Stop acting like it!"

"Even if you wore swords and armor, you'd still look like a girl, _To-chan_."

"Weren't you born in some kind of barn? You don't even have a mom. Or a dad. Idiot."

Suffice to say, sticks were in no way as effective as swords. Though, they apparently did hurt enough if someone got smashed over the head with one…enough even to make him cry and run away.

And that was what brought Kano-san from six houses over to Nobu's porch that evening. Hijikata stood at his sister's side, unaffected by the angry father who came to exact vengeance for his scorned son. His hair was worn in chonmage style with scraggly and unkempt pieces falling loose about his bulldog face, his cheeks and chin stubbly from lack of attention. Hijikata doubted he even bathed.

"Control your brat." Kano spat when he talked and his cheeks jiggled. It was unsightly.

"My understanding is that my brother was acting in self-defense," Nobu replied coolly, and making no move to descend the stairs to speak face-to-face with him. "…Samurai-san."

"He hit Hiromasa over the head with a stick, this fucking _baragaki¹_." An accusatory finger was jabbed in Hijikata's direction. "My kid did nothing to deserve that."

"Would you like an apology?" Nobu's inquiry was calm. "I apologize." She placed her palm on the back of Hijikata's head and gently tilted it forward. "As you can see, Toshizo does as well."

Hijikata scoffed and shook her hand free.

"You better watch your step, bitch, and control your animal." Kano looked down to Hijikata. "And you, you little fuck. I want you to take a good look at this." Fat fingers stroked the handles of the swords at his hip. "This is what a _real_ samurai looks like, something you'll never be. Know your place."

Nobu's hand pressed hard upon one of Hijikata's rapidly rising and falling shoulders, both a warning and command to keep his silence.

"You're a farmer, you understand? You were born in the dirt. You're gonna die in the dirt. Know your fucking place. You hear me?!" Kano snapped his eyes back to Nobu. "And you better know yours too."

Nobu simply nodded once. "Toshizo is not allowed to play with Hiromasa-san any longer. It won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't." Kano's hip swung out as he shifted his stance. "You see, I could call in my boys. We could skewer you alive for retribution while you sleep. But I'm a man of honor, get it? I'm a man who _knows my place_ in the world."

"Indeed, Samurai-san. Well, speaking of places we belong in, I'll need to return back to my kitchen. I'm making dinner for my family." Nobu paused. "Unless you intend to stay to eat? I can set a tray out for you. Or two." When Kano's eyes narrowed, she immediately said, "For your wife, I mean."

"I wouldn't be caught dead sharing a meal with trash like you." And on that, he turned on his heels and made for the main gate.

The tears stinging Hijikata's eyes burned, but he refused to let them to fall. His teeth gritted, his tiny body trembled. His hands balled into such tight fists that color drained from his knuckles. That's when it'd all been too much. This horrible person, this mean and entitled man who didn't deserve to be a samurai at all, would get away with how he spoke to his sister. He had to do _something_. So he drew a deep breath with every intention to shout at him in his wake.

But that was when Nobu's hand pressed to Hijikata's mouth. She sunk to her knees beside him and when he looked at her, she quietly shook her head.

"Toshi, let it go."

"I _can't_." His voice cracked and the tears in his eyes involuntarily spilled over. Still, he fought to stop them.

Nobu brushed at his cheeks and placed one hand against his stomach. "Hey, let me tell you something important." Her lips pulled into a smile. "A true samurai knows when to fight and when not to. A real, honest-to-goodness samurai never throws his status around for convenience…especially when he can't use a sword."

"Are you saying Kano-san isn't a real samurai?"

A boing and a slap from beyond the front garden gate suddenly rang out, followed by an enraged scream. "_Who the fuck left a rake here?!_"

"Oh…" Nobu trailed off innocently. "Oh, did Kano-san step on the rake? It seems to have hit him in the face. What a shame…"

"Neechan, did you…did you put it there?"

"Hm…" She drummed her fingers against Hijikata's yukata. "I couldn't say…" Nobu stood and gave a pat to the top of his head. "In any case, let's go finish making dinner. I could use a guy like you to chop up some daikon."

When Hijikata's eyes fell half-lidded and unimpressed, she chortled. "What? It doesn't count as fencing practice?!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

There were good samurai and bad samurai in the world.

Real ones and fake ones.

The persistent, the lazy. The diligent, the entitled. Those who served and those who expected to _be_ served. There were ones who earned the privilege of such a title and ones who were just born with it.

Just what kind of samurai was Shimazaki Katsuta? And would he go on to actually take over the Tennen Rishin Ryu…would he actually assume his adoptive father's family name?

"Yaaa, sorry to keep to you waiting!"

Hijikata sat back up when he heard Kondo's voice, and watched while he neared with two wet rags. One he had pressed to the back of his neck and the other, he extended out with a grin.

"Here. I think it's possible to sweat even just from laying around on a day like today…" Kondo's eyes widened and he made a sudden strangled noise. "Not that…I think you're just laying around. Sorry."

Hijikata huffed and accepted the offering with a cryptic reply. "Thanks."

Kondo sat beside him with a groan and peered up toward the sky before letting his attention fall to the chest. "So, you peddle medicine, huh…"

_Heh…here it comes…_

"Aa," Hijikata replied. "On the days I'm not working my textile apprenticeship." The ridicule would be disappointing, but not surprising. He couldn't even say it would sting his pride.

"That's neat."

Blink. Blink, blink. Hijikata's brow creased and his lower eyelids raised as he slowly turned his face to Kondo.

"You got something that'll treat bruises?" Clearly unaware of being under such intense scrutiny, Kondo rotated his arm and massaged the adjoining shoulder. "Kenjutsu hurts." He laughed. "In the best way, though!"

"Um…yeah. I mean…" Hijikata reached for the box. "Yeah, I definitely have something for that." He stood and rifled through his merchandise, licked his lips and shook his head.

Just what kind of samurai was Shimazaki Katsuta?

Hijikata's eyes slid to the side. …He would be damn sure to find out.

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Many thanks for reading!

This story is a prequel to my other work, After the Rain. Like After the Rain, this fic is set in the Hakuouki universe, but so much of it was inspired from the Shinsengumi! Taiga Drama. You don't need to have seen the drama to read, but if you have watched it, you might pick up on familiar little things here and there.

¹ baragaki - Literally "thorny brat" and Hijikata's alleged childhood nickname.


	2. Chapter 2

**.*Chapter 2*.**

As the waning sun painted the tree line in crimson, a kiseru pipe was packed, lit, and brought to a shapely mouth. The first pull was slow and the exhale just as indulgent, with white smoke drifting up and out toward wide open shoji that remedied a once too-humid space with fresh air.

The summer heat was like Hijikata's preoccupation with the young master, both lingering and vexing him relentlessly from early June to mid-July. Despite these current parallels, the two were ultimately destined to be at odds, though. The days would grow shorter as the year wore on, with promise to an end of sticky and suffocating conditions. Unfortunately for Hijikata, his interest seemed resolute to do just the opposite. It flourished and deepened all on its own, without any new fuel to feed it, or a looming conclusion in sight.

An irritated scoff suddenly filled his room and he drew from the pipe again, sitting cross-legged with an elbow against his knee and chin weighing down heavy in a supportive palm.

That he was even still _thinking_ about Kondo was absurd. Hijikata hadn't seen or heard from him since the day they'd met just over four weeks ago, but that brief encounter was enough to ignite a fire in his chest and fill his head with questions that only his new acquaintance could quell. As if this weren't infuriating enough, he wasn't rightly sure how to go about articulating the things bothering him in the first place because they were so…indicative. Personal. _Revealing_. And certainly not fit or fair to inquire of someone he barely even knew.

_Why aren't you judging me? Everyone else tells me I'm wasting my life, so why don't you? Why the hell are you so…nice?_

_And while I'm at it! How did you even get adopted into a samurai family? You really just…let go of your status without consequence and people actually take you seriously? You think it's possible that someday I—?_

Oh, now he was _really_ veering off the rails of rationality. Hijikata scowled further and closed his eyes. These inquiries were so inane, so annoying, and not to mention so utterly pointless. So what if Kondo hadn't derided him? It didn't constitute approval. So what if he'd apparently earned his status, and seemed to embody the spirit of bushido as it was meant to be? Yeah, that was rare, okay. So what if he was humble and gentle around others, but a force to be reckoned with when a weapon was in his grip?

So what if he was handsome on top of everything—immaterial, truly, but an attribute which only complemented all the other things already so damn impressive?

"So fucking what?" Hijikata grumbled aloud, removing the pipe from his lips and ridding loose ash in the bowl with a pointed tap. Why did he, _should he_, care? Why should _any_ of it matter?

…He knew exactly why, however—just as well as he knew the reason for asking these obvious questions of himself in the first place. They allowed him to deflect: from the anxiety of being wrong, or the dizzying, impossible notion that he might actually be right.

His first impression of Kondo was too positive. It was too good, too utopian, too much of a wild dream come true. Ever since his childhood, Hijikata had pined for the unlikely day he might meet someone exactly like this man who appeared out of thin air to teach lessons at Hikogoro's dojo.

The samurai he encountered through the humdrum routine of his life were lazy bottom-feeders, and the ones who weren't would never give him the time of day because of where he'd been born. They judged him for having hands which sewed fabric, for the medicine chest that clung to his back. Neither group viewed him to be a worthy contender in kenjutsu, and each side dismissed him on preconception alone.

But Kondo hadn't. And Kondo was like _him_, born in Tama and raised of the land. Unlike Hijikata though, he'd somehow managed to traverse the constraints of classism and become a real samurai who didn't throw the weight of ego around and, and, and—

Hijikata tossed his head aside. It was too ideal to be reality, too _goddamn_ ideal. There had to be a flaw somewhere and he needed to find it, even if the letdown would be unthinkably severe should he discover his first impression was misguided. Yet…hope was already so fleeting and fragile, and his first touch with Kondo offered a dangerous glimmer of promise to whet a faith within him that'd gone long parched.

For all his life, Hijikata had sought the validation that would prove his dreams weren't frivolous, that his birth class didn't define him—only to be shoved aside and ridiculed again and again, because who had ever heard of a farmer becoming a samurai?

No one. Until now.

So, what if Kondo _did_ approve? What if he really was as great as he seemed, if he could provide the blessing Hijikata had so desperately yearned for all this time? What if Hijikata could follow in Kondo's footsteps, if they could actually become friends and bond over a crazy mutual goal?

His heart beat a little quicker as he stared out at the carefully chosen landscaping just beyond the doors. He'd felt trapped for so long in this one place, in this one room, going nowhere and doing nothing of importance when a whole country was out there for the taking. Hijikata had longed for the day when the view from his room shifted from meticulously pruned shrubs to a field of wildflowers—a disorderly and chaotic tangle, but beautiful if only because they weren't strangled into obedience.

The kiseru went untouched for some time while his eyes fixated in an unseeing gaze. He wanted to be right. He wanted to be right so _badly_. But pinning all of his hopes, the most delicate of his dreams, to one person he barely even knew was beyond reckless. He was playing with fire. And if he didn't watch out, he could get—

"Don't burn yourself!"

Hijikata's spine went ramrod straight, the daze rattled clear out of his brain. The hand that held his pipe lifted from resting on his knee and his attention snapped to find Nobu on the porch, a palm braced against the shoji.

"Were you sleeping?!" She stepped quickly over the threshold and despite having posed a question, gave him no chance to reply. "You could burn the whole house down, Toshi! Don't smoke when you're tired!"

His expression darkened as his cheeks went alight, simultaneously feeling annoyed at her lecturing but all too grateful for the distraction. "I wasn't sleeping!" The petulant snap of his retort was followed by his pipe clanging against the ashtray again, and once it was put out, he set it down.

Nobu pursed her lips and slowly lowered to sit in informal seiza, the chastising bite from her demeanor slipping away since there was no longer a perceived threat. That was one of the best things about her—she could be dramatic and sometimes overbearing, but practicality was always first and foremost in her mind; when it was time to let things go, Nobu did and she always moved on fast. In kind, her voice deepened with consideration as she cocked her head. "Daydreaming, then? I said your name twice but you didn't reply."

"I was just thinking about something."

She swept her hand slowly over the tatami, reveling in the texture as she often did. "Like what?"

"Nothing, just forget it." Hijikata's lashes fell as he shook his head.

"Well, what is it, something or nothing?"

_Damn it._ "Nothing." He swallowed and stiffened his back, then looked to her. "It was stupid anyway. Did you need something?"

She hummed a negative reply. "Just wanted to ask how work was today. I thought I saw you stalking past the sitting room when you got home." To Hijikata's consequent _cht_, Nobu offered a sympathetic smile. "That bad, huh?"

His shoulders crept up and over a half-sigh, he brushed his fingers through his hair and flipped the ponytail out of the way. "Not any more than usual. Some guy came in to yell at us because his wife's kimono was the wrong colors. Mind you, _she_ picked them out."

Nobu squinted. "And was Murakami-san there?"

"Yep. He came running out while I was handling it." Hijikata huffed and diverted his attention forward, his eyes narrowing while recounting the situation. "Apologized right from the get-go and said we'd remake it the _right_ way. Then he went on to lecture _me_, saying _I_ was out to make his business an enemy to the public, that I'm—" His nose went high into the air, his tone turning into one of mockery, "—never allowed to oppose any guy wearing two swords ever again." Disgusted, Hijikata sunk back down. "Blah blah. It's always the same shit."

"Well, if the patron was a samurai—"

"That man was no samurai," he interjected.

"—it's no wonder why he's so entitled." Nobu stressed her words, not allowing herself to be interrupted or misconstrued.

"Neesan, it's bullshit, all of it."

She sat still and silent, her hands now joined in a lazy fold just over her knees. Eyes remained studiously on him, and Hijikata was all too aware that she was trying to read between the lines.

"These assholes, they just get away with everything." Taking fistfuls of hakama, he squeezed the material over and over to abate the animosity welling up inside of him. "They get whatever the hell they want because they're born to the right privileged dickbags who were also raised the same damn way."

"I…see your point, Toshi, you know I do." A pensive moment. "And you know I appreciate what you're saying. But there's not too much we can do about it."

He snapped his face to her. "Are you telling me to just be complacent?!"

Nobu scoffed and sat taller. "_No_. No, I'm not saying that at all. You can fight back, but you have to be smart about it. You can't do it head on." She cut him off before the rebuke could begin to leave his tongue. "I'm _aware_ that's not a satisfying answer for you, but you of all people know I'm right."

Hijikata's mouth was set in a line, wearing discontent openly across his features but he didn't speak out—immediately, anyway. "Neesan, I'm quitting. I can't do it anymore."

A deep inhale filled her chest and as it left her lungs, she shook her head in surrender. "That's up to you, Toshizo. But you have to be the one to break the news to Tamejiro-san. You know the strings he pulled to secure your apprenticeship there."

"Yeah, I know," he droned. "It's just whatever. Murakami has no backbone. He's an enabler. I'll just find another apprenticeship in the same field."

"Well." The inflection in Nobu's voice meant unsolicited cautionary advice was about to rear its head. "I hope it's as easy as you think it'll be. But I have a feeling it won't."

"Heh. What's another failure on the already huge pile of failures I'm sitting on?" The words left him unaffected.

"Toshi…"

"Whatever."

Nobu's tongue poked out to wet her lips and her eyes closed for a brief time. "Hey, you do what you need to do. Tamejiro-san won't be happy about it, so you'll need to find a way to do right by him. He's just looking out for you like any good brother would."

"If he really wants to help me, then he should mind his own damn business."

"Come on, stop that. Don't you know we all want the best for you?"

Hijikata deflated. Of that he'd certainly been aware, but what he hadn't ever learned was how to explain to his family that their concern with his successfulness (or lack thereof) was smothering and sometimes more harm than otherwise. He sure as hell wasn't about to try explaining it now.

Nobu seemed to catch the hint, though. "Anyway…look. It's all gonna work out in the end, okay? You know I have your back, so just do whatever you have to do. If you need me to help smooth things over with Tamejiro-san, I will."

His shoulders shook with a huff, but he couldn't prevent the tiny smile that wanted at his lips. "Thanks."

"Now enough of this gloomy crap!" She clapped once and her eyes caught a shine as they widened, the room suddenly feeling much lighter with the change in mood. "I have some good news for you! And I'm sure it'll make you feel better."

Warily, Hijikata's brows narrowed. "Well, what is it?"

"Katsuta-san is coming by tomorrow!"

_Oh, fuck._ And just when Mister Golden-Perfect-Handsome-Samurai had been out of his thoughts for more than three minutes… He exhaled sharply and looked away before he _gave_ too much away. "Okay? So?"

"_So_ you should make sure to be around." Nobu leaned closer. "Aren't you interested in talking with him more?"

"Why, so niisan can jump in every other word again?" Hijikata snapped, but immediately regretted the response. It wasn't Hikogoro's fault for returning hastily with lunch that day, just as he'd pulled Ishida Sanyaku from his chest at Kondo's inquiry about medicine. Hell, for all his brother-in-law knew from the level of attitude Hijikata had given him, he probably rushed back to save both men from themselves. How could he possibly have guessed that the conversation was only just getting good?

"Oh, he did, huh? I'll have a talk with him, then."

Wincing, Hijikata held out one hand and stammered, "Just…never mind. Forget what I said just now, will you? Anyway, thanks for the info, but it really doesn't concern me." Relaxing his posture, his lashes fell once again with dismissal. "I have work tomorrow."

A snort. "Ah yes, at a place you're quitting."

…As always, Nobu was on point. He cracked one eye open as she stood, and then watched while she walked back to the porch. "He'll be here around noon. Training starts midday, I believe." Raising her brows she waited expectantly for his agreement.

"Neesan."

"Mm?"

"You know…" Hijikata peered right past her and into the garden, and suddenly pointed to it. "We oughta move that primrose bush a few centimeters to the right." Nobu's face pinched in confusion and she pivoted to the flowering plant in question. Upon returning to him, suspicion was written openly across her features.

"It'd look better if everything wasn't so evenly spaced," he explained.

"Toshizo…" She paused with a cant of her head. "You are _most_ welcome to dig it up and put it where you please. Just don't kill it."

"Aa, of course," he said over a breath and reached to pack his pipe again. "We can't have that, now can we…everything has its place."

"Dinner's at the usual time," Nobu said slowly in parting—but lingered a moment further to glance back at the primroses. Just when it appeared that she might speak again, she set off down the porch and disappeared.

Hijikata watched the tobacco smoldering a reddish-orange hue in his pipe.

So, Kondo would be back tomorrow… That was fine, just fine. It wasn't like Hijikata would spend the rest of the evening thinking about that, wasn't like he'd rush out of the textile shop tomorrow to get home before his arrival.

He took a pull and let the calm wash over him. Nope, it wasn't like that at all.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"_Where in Edo do you think you're going?! Hijikata!_"

Ignoring the irking shrill of Murakami's shout from the back door he'd slipped through, Hijikata's feet hit the dirt until he rounded a stone-walled corner and the agitated old man's yammering no longer reached his ears. Pressing his shoulder blades to the hard surface, he panted to catch his breath and allowed a triumphant grin to spread clear across his face.

He was home free and ready to wash the sweat from his skin, not because Hijikata wanted to look presentable for Kondo or anything, oh no. The day was simply beyond humid despite it being only late morning, and he hadn't worn a hat to shield from the sun. Where was his hat? Forgotten in his room. Certainly not on purpose. Definitely not because he didn't want it to wreck his hairstyle.

"Fuck, it's hot today," he groused while pulling at his hakamashita to generate airflow, and resuming a faster-than-usual pace, all too eager to feel the comfort of cool well water easing the heat.

When Hijikata had awoken to birds chirping outside his door at some ungodly hour today, he'd flirted with the idea of just not showing up at all or sending some kind of sob story letter in his stead—but that meant he'd have to deal with the nosy people at home asking questions, especially since Tamejiro was coming to visit.

Heading out had seemed like the correct decision at the time but now, as he felt tiny droplets lining his brow after just having wiped away the previous ones, he wondered if he'd really made the right choice at all. Were the prying inquiries worth the luxury of staying much drier in the shade of his room? He was beginning to think so. He'd feel much cleaner, at least.

Whatever the case, depending on the hour, he might have still have the time to bathe and wash his hair out again before Kondo showed up, but that was entirely reliant on—

Hijikata stopped short on his heels when he turned the next corner and made no certain effort to conceal the displeasure radiating from him at the sight ahead. The brats of the neighborhood were all huddled around some crouching guy with a wide-brimmed hat—one of their hifalutin fathers, he assumed—and getting a lecture of some sort. Little bastards had probably gotten into a fight or stolen something, _wrecked_ something, like they usually did. And while Hijikata wasn't one to call the kettle black when he was a pot himself, his bad behavior meant consequences when he was young, not pretty little speeches or slaps on the wrist.

It wasn't like the harsher discipline made him change his ways, though, so perhaps there was no room for him to talk. Nevertheless, he didn't particularly want to overhear what nonsense was transpiring but avoiding the situation meant heading another street over—which meant adding three more blocks to a schedule already too tight. Therefore, the fetid kid-contaminated path would have to do. Hijikata would just hold his nose, close his ears, and walk quicker.

Strangely, none of the children were crying or looking agitated from the assumed scolding and in fact, they seemed more interested in what that hoity-toity dad was saying. What was the world coming to?

As Hijikata neared, one of the boys in the front spoke up. "So…you're really not gonna tell my mom that I punched Mantaro then?"

The hat-clad dad shook his head. "Nope, but as long as you keep your end of the deal, okay?"

_Wait a minute…_

Hijikata's eyes narrowed and his steps slowed at the sound of a voice so unsettlingly familiar. He _had_ noticed that the dad wore a pair of swords, but dismissed it because anyone could do that in the boonies of Tama without consequence. While it was technically illegal to bear blades if one wasn't in the samurai class, the Bakufu couldn't protect all this wide open space like they could a crowded city and was content to turn the other cheek at the bending of the rules. As such, ordinary country peasants took up kenjutsu, not so much for status or even interest as it was protecting themselves and their possessions. Still, that didn't mean…

"But we're not samurai, Mister! We're farmers. We don't know nothin' about…" The boy studied a word that had been written in the soil with a stick. "…_bushimichi¹_."

The dad tossed his head back and laughed—and that was when Hijikata stopped dead in his tracks and felt the color drain from his cheeks. This guy was no _dad_, he was—!

"Good try, but it's read _bushido_, not _bushimichi_." Kondo stayed crouched to maintain eye level and crossed his arms over the peaks of his bent knees. "And so what about being a farmer? I'm one too, you know."

A high pitched choir of "_eh?!_" rose from the lot. The same kid who spoke earlier piped up again. "But you're a samurai!"

"I am now, but that's because I was adopted. I was actually born in Kami-Ishihara, not too far from here."

"What?! No way, Mister!"

He chuckled. "I mean it!"

"Are you saying that _anyone_ can be a samurai?"

Kondo shook his head. "Oh, no. Not just anyone. If you want to become one, you need to earn that honor and live it every day, no matter where you come from."

"But…" Another child spoke out, the gears clearly turning in his head. "What about the people born into the samurai class?"

"_Especially_ them." Kondo looked into all the inquisitive eyes focused on him. "I'll tell you boys something. You're all from Hino, right?" Enthusiastic nodding ensued. "Even if this world sees you as farmers and nothing more…" Lifting one hand, he pointed to his heart. "If bushido is in here and you let it guide you, then what they think doesn't matter. But!" His tone went serious. "_But_. Understand that being a samurai isn't about status. It isn't about walking around just saying you _are_ one. The most important thing is acting the role."

And with that, Kondo reached forth and gently flicked the first outspoken kid on the forehead. "So quit picking petty fights in the middle of the street!" Giggling erupted from the lot. "That's un-samurai-like, I'm telling you!"

Hijikata remained frozen in a mid-summer inferno, goosebumps dotting his arms while his mouth had gone dry. His attention had been unseverable from the moment he'd made the realization, and only the gods knew if he'd even blinked or drew breath since then. All that mattered, all he'd been cognizant of was Kondo, who was now rising to stand while the children dispersed and—_oh no_! Tossing his face aside to hide it and hoping with all hope that he wasn't seen in his current state, Hijikata began to pivot.

"Hi—Hijikata-san?!"

_Fuck_.

There would be time to process this entire situation and the emotions that billowed because of what he'd just heard, but for now Hijikata swallowed hard and stowed those feelings…tried with all his might to calm his racing heart and bate his breath. He kept his features out of sight only long enough to blot the sweat from them, and upon turning again, he found Kondo approaching with that same large smile he'd shown the first day they met.

"Wow, it _is_ you! Imagine meeting you here! –Uh." Rubbing at his neck, Kondo chuckled. "I mean…you _live_ here, so I guess it's not that strange, is it?"

Hijikata forced a laugh, not that he didn't find the clumsy statement amusing, but the recovery from it was so… Well, it was…endearing. He prayed that Kondo simply presumed the flash of heat he felt burning clear across his cheeks was from the sun. "Aa. Um, my sister mentioned you'd be visiting, but she told me it would be around noon…"

It was hard to look at Kondo directly while feeling less than put together, so Hijikata gazed down the road with a squint and idly ran fingers through his hair.

"Oh, she was definitely right," Kondo agreed. "I have this annoying habit of always leaving too early. Which means I also arrive too early. Which means I wind up needing to walk around and bide my time so I don't impose."

…Was it weird to not face someone when they were speaking? It was definitely weird. And rude. Hijikata ventured a glance and this time held it, when he realized what Kondo had just said. "You don't have to do that, you know. You'd never be imposing." A nod. "My family talks so highly of you. I guarantee that you could waltz into our place in the dead of night and my brother-in-law would start doing backflips."

He _felt_ the laugh which followed, felt the good-nature of Shimazaki Katsuta wash over him. It tingled, had butterflies flitting about in his belly, made it impossible to look anywhere else. And yet, strangely, Hijikata found himself not only minding but even wanting more of this bizarre sensation.

"Hikogoro-san is something else!" Kondo shook his head. "I keep asking him to not hype things up about me like that. Honestly, and I hope you won't repeat this because I'd hate to hurt his feelings, but it makes me a little uncomfortable."

Hijikata blinked. "Why?"

"How about we find some shade?" Kondo suggested. "I feel bad making you stand out in the sun. That is, if you have time? In fact, do you want to wear my hat?" He began reaching for the clasp. "I can make do without it—"

"No, it's fine, it's fine," Hijikata chanted and raised his hands, equally as embarrassed as he was flattered that his comfort was being considered. Oh, why the hell didn't he just bring his damn hat? _Every_ sane person of an adult age wore a hat on a day like today. It was ridiculous to be without one. "Thanks, though."

"You sure?"

"Mm. We could just head back to my place. It's really close." Hijikata dabbed at his face again with his sleeve. "Anyway, if someone in my family finds out that I was just hanging around with you and didn't bring you back, I'd catch hell for it."

Kondo grinned. "Guess we'd better get going then."

And just like that, Hijikata was back on his way home with unexpected company at his side—company he'd needed time to ready himself for, or so he thought. Without even realizing it, the relentless self-conscious needling had slipped away while their conversation wore on and now, he was more concerned with not doing something mortifying like tripping over his own feet. He wasn't clumsy by nature, and that was all the more reason to be super careful.

"So, yeah," Kondo spoke up as they walked. "I respect Hikogoro-san more than I can put in words and I treasure my friendship with him in the same way." His voice matched everything about him, Hijikata thought; it was warm and inviting, a pleasure to take in. "I'm just a regular guy, though, you know? Nothing special."

_…What?_ Hijikata's face snapped to the side as he looked incredulously at Kondo over his shoulder. "But…you became a samurai."

"By adoption," Kondo insisted. "And I was adopted only because I was in the right place at the right time. That's why I'm slated to take over for my father and inherit his sword style." A breathy laugh followed and he shrugged. "It could've happened to anyone lucky enough, I promise."

Despite not agreeing with that statement in the least, Hijikata let it go and his voice flattened, almost as if he'd meant to speak to himself. "You really meant what you said then."

"Mm?" Kondo met his eyes.

"What you said to those kids back there."

"Oh, you overheard that…"

Watching as his companion turned forward again in what appeared to be a pensive moment, Hijikata could feel the chagrin beginning to rise up from the pit of his abdomen—the looming discontent that it'd all just been a hefty bit of lip service. But then, the soft line of Kondo's profile hardened and his chin dropped in a firm nod. "Absolutely."

Validation. Just like that.

Approval. Freely given.

Acceptance. Affirmation. A sanction.

Hijikata's feet halted in mid-step, and when Kondo realized the space at his side went empty, he paused and peered back. "Something wrong?"

Heat baked the dirt road that they stood upon, both as still as lifeless mannequins, as if the swelter hadn't been oppressive and the humidity not suffocating. Neither spoke and neither moved, each reading the other like they were tangled in a high-stakes game of Go instead of friendly dialog.

At last, Hijikata moved his piece. "I didn't expect you to say you actually meant it."

There was silence for a moment longer, until Kondo's expression shifted into something unexpectedly severe and his tone fell harsh in the same instant. "Do you disagree with me, Hijikata-san?"

…Apparently Kondo had been offended by the assumption that Hijikata believed samurai status was inherited, and not earned. And to leave such an incorrect premise unaddressed would simply not do, especially when it couldn't be further from the truth. Hijikata's bound hair swished with the shaking of his head. "Not at all. I agree with you completely." He watched as Kondo's demeanor immediately relaxed. "It's just…it's not something I expected to hear from a samurai, that's all."

"Hey, uh…" Kondo closed the distance between them, rubbing at his arms before setting hands on his hips. His eyes dropped to the ground for a beat before raising back to Hijikata's. "What would you say to a match today?"

Hijikata's brows raised, caught off guard by the abrupt change in subject. "What?"

"I mean, when we get to the dojo. Would you face off with me?"

Exasperation colored his response. "And what in the hell makes you think I have anything to do with kenjutsu?"

A breathy laugh fell from Kondo's lips and his attention wandered off to nowhere important while he scratched at his jaw. "Sorry. I didn't think it was an off-limit topic. Well, we all have our reasons."

With his features going serious, Hijikata pressed, "No, answer my question. What makes you think I can fight?"

"Isn't it obvious?" A beat. "Hijikata-san, you might sew fabric and you might sell medicine…" Kondo found his gaze then, and there was a particular directness in it that spoke novels all on its own. "But the calluses on your hands tell me those aren't the only things they're capable of."

Well…_shit_.

* * *

Thank you for reading!

¹ bushimichi: I needed the kid to misread the word bushido, so I swapped the "do" kanji reading with its other reading "michi." Suffice to say, this is a made-up word. Just wanted to make a note of it in case anyone wondered.


	3. Chapter 3

**.*Chapter 3*.**

The universe was a finicky thing. It was unfair, played favorites. To some, it gave with reckless abandon. From others, it took and took in the same stride.

For once, it favored Hijikata Toshizo.

Ducking beneath the flowering bough of the Sato residence main gate revealed beyond advantageous conditions: Nobu was preoccupied somewhere in the house with her two young children, Hikogoro hadn't yet returned from meeting Tamejiro, there were no nosy neighbors or merchants haunting the front garden… In short, a golden opportunity had fallen right into Hijikata's lap, and he snatched the reins with an ecstasy that left him light-headed and almost delirious.

Everyone was out of his way. And for a change, he would have his.

It was a beeline straight to the back of the property with Kondo in tow, and when Hijikata just about punted the shoes from his feet and bounded up the dark stairs, his soon-to-be opponent spoke up in inquiry.

"Um, do you think we should wait for—?"

"_No_," Hijikata stressed without so much a glance over his shoulder, and on that, he disappeared into the dojo.

Several moments passed before a breathy laugh rolled off Kondo's tongue, his head canting and shoulders nudging up into a shrug. "All right, then," he said aloud to no one, making quick work to free himself of hat and shoes, smooth out any displaced locks of hair, and follow Hijikata's lead before he might be scolded for taking too long.

As shoji were thrown open for airflow and they set to readying themselves, the training hall was devoid of conversation—not because there weren't matters of common interest to mull over or twenty questions to be asked. Simply, at present, there was but one thing on Hijikata's mind. And that thing, that _prospect_, was all-consuming.

Anticipation electrified him, had every last nerve in his body lit up by the feverish exhilaration of being taken seriously, of _at last_ having the opportunity to substantiate his merit. This would be the test of all tests and the ultimate proving ground, facing off with someone not only of Kondo's talent but status. Hijikata's fingers nearly trembled while readjusting the red ties woven about his personal training attire, and he began fastening the breastplate to his torso.

Kondo was perched across the way in formal seiza, making his own refinements prior to quickly outfitting himself. Seizing a pair of loose straps that hung about his waist, he pulled hard and started binding, then spoke up without diverting attention from his task. "You never did say what school you're with, by the way."

Hijikata sprung to his feet. "All of them."

Chin snapping up, Kondo's eyes were instantly on him and following as he approached the shinai rack. "Ah, I mean…" He rose to stand as well, and gave himself a final shake to let the armor settle comfortably about his frame. "What style do you practice?"

Two training swords were pulled free and Hijikata pivoted on his heels, tossing one over to Kondo while returning to the place he'd left his facemask. And just before his features became obscured by a ribbed cage, he offered a smug twitch of the lips and huffed out his nose. "It's called Hijikata Toshizo style."

Kondo's lashes parted a little wider and though he said nothing in response to that statement, his mouth pulled outward into an enticed broad smile.

The playfulness was gone in an instant from Hijikata as he strapped himself in. "Don't you dare go easy on me."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It all started off so well. Confidence was soaring, the ship of peasant-turned-samurai dreams sailed, life was on the upswing and anything was possible.

Then the shinai was sent flying from Hijikata's grip.

Kondo was saying something, but the words fell on ears deafened by distraction.

_What…was that just now?_ Hijikata blinked, maintaining position and studying his empty hands before his eyes shifted to the fallen practice sword. After a second more of thought, he retrieved it, reassumed position, and squared his jaw with determination. "Again."

He stepped into Kondo's lunge with a different technique, a new approach at blocking…only to be disarmed in the same manner.

There was no pensive consideration this time. Hijikata swooped over his shinai and took it up without breaking momentum. His feet slid back into stance like second nature. "_Again_."

Again and again and again, until he figured out a countermeasure for this move.

_Again_.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Pulling off headgear on a day like today felt like breaking back through the surface of water after staying submerged for too long. Hijikata stood panting hard with his eyes shut tight and nose angled toward the ceiling, his heart pounding and lungs working double time. The mask which dangled from his fingertips dropped unceremoniously to the floor, and his hands began blindly ridding the other articles that bogged him down.

"It is _hot_!" Kondo rasped with desperation, seeking his own freedom from the same burdens, and then used the sleeve of his hakamashita to wipe the sweat from his face.

Indeed it was hotter than hell, among other things just as uncomfortable. While his pulse slowly calmed and his muscles relaxed, the disappointment that welled in the pit of Hijikata's stomach started creeping up his throat to sting his tongue with the bitter taste of chagrin. All he offered to Kondo's statement about the heat was an affirmative breathy hum, and when his lashes finally parted, he found himself being regarded with another grin. It was almost unsettling, given the circumstances. "…What?"

Shaking his head, Kondo let the fabric fall back in place at his side. "I'm just impressed."

"_What?_" Hijikata's brows drew inward and his cheeks flushed with anger. "Don't goddamn patronize me!"

"I'm _not_." Hands flew up before Kondo's chest in surrender and he swallowed hard, his shoulders still rising and falling from catching his breath. "Don't get me wrong. You lack discipline and consistency, and your form needs work. But—" A few moments of panting. "—you make up for all that in creativity. It certainly kept me on my toes."

While his expression hadn't lessened in severity, Hijikata studied the young master and took heed to his words; it was an appraisal that was admittedly fair and one he couldn't argue, even if constructive criticism hadn't been something he'd particularly sought. After all, it was plain as day now that he was no match for Kondo as he was. That Kondo could find _anything_ remotely positive to comment on about his performance was already much too kind in his opinion.

Pulling his mouth taut, Hijikata remained silent. It was mortifying to admit even to himself that he'd envisioned victory. Then again, he could mop the floor with the local dojos frequented during his peddling rounds, so perhaps this loss was a necessary and humbling kick in the ass. It wasn't even that Hijikata hadn't held his own well enough during the match, because he had. However, in a world where someone with ambitions as wild as his needed to be better than the best, staying on the defense simply wouldn't cut it.

And by the gods, having a weapon knocked free over and over—something that should never happen even _once_—was humiliating beyond belief.

No, he needed to be more than just decent, more than passable or _creative_. He needed to be a legitimate contender to people with advanced skill like Kondo if he wanted to get anywhere in the life he envisioned, and that was the cold hard truth. Thus, the contest was Kondo's triumph and Hijikata's failure no matter how minced the words, but at least he could learn something from it. He licked his lips, eager to move on from being the recipient of half-hearted compliments. "So, what was that move?"

"What move?"

"The one you kept disarming me with."

Another smile inched out into Kondo's cheeks. "Ah, that…" He gave a firm nod. "The Tennen Rishin Ryu is structured purely for warfare. It's an aggressive style that seeks to neutralize threats as fast as possible, so disarmament is a big factor."

Hijikata narrowed his eyes. "Right…yeah, I get that. But I wanna know how you did it." Several seconds passed without any verbal response as the young master seemed to study him—and just as he'd been about to reassert his demand, Kondo huffed.

"Um, Hijikata-san," he began slowly, letting his focus wander to nowhere important. "From what I gather, you have knowledge of all different kinds of styles from your travels." Kondo returned his attention then, his gaze direct and piercing. "But the Tennen Rishin Ryu isn't one of them, despite this dojo being literally in your backyard. Why is that?"

It was a splendidly predictable inquiry but somehow still managed to catch Hijikata off guard. He scoffed and rubbed at his neck with irritation, averted his sight to the garden and replied with a breathy, "Answering a question with a question, huh…"

"Forgive me, but you _are_ asking for the semantics of my technique, are you not?"

Hijikata's fingers paused and his eyes shifted to his companion. …Kondo had a point. Or it was more like he was damn correct and this situation was becoming more than a little embarrassing with every passing second. It was time to leave before more damage could be done, time to salvage whatever was left of his pride—_if_ any of it was. "You're right," Hijikata relented with a nearly disdainful drop of his chin. "Sorry, it was overstepping."

"Mm?" Kondo tilted his head and started pulling at his hakamashita to help himself cool off. "I don't believe I said that…"

"Aa, I know." A forced smile twitched at Hijikata's lips as he collected his armor and stepped up to take Kondo's as well. "Well, thanks for the match but as you found out, I really am just a medicine peddler with rough hands." Before that could be interpreted as a cry for sympathy, he was quick to shrug and press on with the kind of talk that would pacify anyone of a higher class. "Which is fine. We all have our place. Mine happens to be healing the ailments of this country."

As he was learning, however, Kondo wasn't just anyone.

"Anyway, I'll take that." Hijikata leaned forward to reach for the breastplate at the young master's side…only to have his shoulders caught in the grip of hands much larger than his own. Hijikata froze, his eyes snapping up to golden ones boring into him, and relented when he was gently coaxed back into standing upright.

"Look…" Kondo's palms slipped from where they'd steadied him, but Hijikata could feel the gentle yet insistent weight of his touch remaining even after it vanished. What even was this magnetism? Part of him wanted to leave so he could process and swallow the crushing loss that shattered his confidence, but another side remained inundated with curiosity—so much that it won out and had his feet staying cemented in place. He warily listened.

"I assess all kinds of men day in and day out through training and sparring. That being said…" Kondo swiped up the training gear Hijikata had been after, his attention falling to it before returning with a pointed earnestness. "Hijikata-san, I promise you. Your opinion of yourself is much too low. Actually, I'd go so far to say it's completely wrong."

Several moments of tense silence persisted, each studying the other like they were back at that proverbial game of Go from when they'd met on the street earlier, before Hijikata's features relaxed and he choked out a strained breathy laugh. "Uh, thanks," he said dismissively and reached for the armor again.

Strange as it was, Kondo hadn't taken the bait to lighten the mood and seemed to have no interest in giving up the raiment that Hijikata had been after, his demeanor holding as fervid as it was genuine. "I'll show you the move if you come to practice sometime."

Hijikata's brows creased and he felt a rush of…_something_ hit his head—annoyance or offense or another emotion he couldn't rightly identify. Whatever the case, it wasn't favorable and so he replied with a cool retort. "I'm not interested in becoming your student."

"What do you want to be then?"

And damned as he might have been for it, the unintended suggestiveness in that question took Hijikata by surprise. His lips parted, but no sound came forth.

Kondo's hands docked on his hips. "Rivals, friends? Enemies, a few fake samurai trying to forever be good enough?"

"Excuse me, _fake_?"

"Of course. You said it yourself, didn't you? We all have our place." Turning his head to the side, Kondo's gaze was back on the garden. "Society won't see us as anything more than farmers."

"What are you even saying?! You're _literally_ a samurai!" Hijikata snapped. "You have the actual status. I don't. I have nothing at all."

"You think that means something…" Kondo trailed off, his voice going quiet. He huffed, closed his eyes, and cocked his head…shrugged and smiled. "This _status_ you refer to amounts to nothing at all." But when his lashes parted again, Hijikata could make out a fire burning in the man in front of him. "If the Shogun worked the land before he became the Shogun, the world would still see him as what he was first, no matter his accomplishments."

Ah, there it was. A bitter scoff followed. "So you lied to those kids, after all. Can't say it surprises me."

"Actually, no, I didn't. I'm a farmer, Hijikata-san. That's how I was born. That's how I'll die. I have to work three times as hard to get even a sliver of what some people are lucky enough to be given at birth." Squaring his jaw, the light dulled in Kondo's eyes. "But I'm not discouraged by that, because you see, I'm lucky too. My fate is in my own hands. I can carve my own path." And with that, his grasp on the plate tightened. "To society, I'll always be someone trying to be something that I'm not and nothing more. So I'll be a farmer with the greatest samurai spirit, more samurai than _any_ samurai who thinks he's entitled to that honor because of where he happened to be born."

Hijikata's attention was locked on Kondo and he didn't dare even blink, his heart pounding so hard that he heard it echoing in his ears. What he was saying, it was infuriating and ridiculous and it spoke _directly_ to his soul with the words he'd always wanted to hear. "More samurai than…any samurai," he echoed as his companion pivoted on his feet and made for the armor stand. "You're—"

"It's the same for you," Kondo said, reaching for a nearby rag and beginning to wipe down each article to prepare it for stowing. "Whether you see it or not."

"You barely _know_ me!" Hijikata shot back. "How the hell can you make such a bold ass statement like it's some kind of fact?!"

Kondo's hands came to a stop and he lifted his chin. "It's simple." Slowly, he turned his face to look him dead in the eye. "I see myself in you."

There weren't many times in his life when Hijikata had been rendered utterly speechless, but it seemed that the young master had a particular talent at striking his sharp tongue frozen. His mouth opened suddenly. Then, it closed.

And just when it parted again, in his true horrible timing fashion, Hikogoro's voice pierced the air. "_Katsuta-san?!_"

The moment was lost, the seriousness slipping from Kondo's expression as he smiled warmly at the harried man running up the dojo stairs. And while Hikogoro made his greetings and unleashed a chastising tirade for letting Kondo put his own training attire away, Hijikata's silence persisted.

_More samurai than any samurai._

_A farmer with the greatest samurai spirit._

_What do you want to be then?_

"Oi, Toshizo! Are you even listening to me?!"

_I see myself in you._

At last, he released the breath he hadn't even realized he held.


End file.
